


I'll Be Your Fix. Take a Long Hard Hit

by Notawriterjustalurker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Post-The Final Problem, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22468348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notawriterjustalurker/pseuds/Notawriterjustalurker
Summary: Sherlock has some explaining to do after that phonecall.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 12
Kudos: 122





	I'll Be Your Fix. Take a Long Hard Hit

**Author's Note:**

> So after rewatching for the millionth time I thought I'd write my first Sherlock fic. Be nice 😂 i just really wish we got this scene. Anyway this is my take on it enjoy!

I- I love you.

_I love you_.

She replayed it over and over in her head. That gorgeous voice saying those words to her. She had gotten controling her feelings for Sherlock down to a fine art over the years. She would tightly package them up and tuck them away in corner of her heart so instead of feeling a punch to the gut every time she laid eyes him it was more of an ache, a poke in the ribs with a blunt instrument, something she could swallow hard and ignore as long as she stayed a reasonable physical distance from him at all times.. Oh, and as long as he didn't make prolonged eye contact with her, preferably didn't smile at her either, especially that little sideways smirk of- _I know you know what I'm thinking because you're actually quite clever too Molly-_

Oh god.

Who was she kidding?

Molly had already spent to much of that morning indulging over what it all meant. She had already analysed and torn apart every millisecond of his voice, his intonation, and his hesitation until she was almost mad from it and she'd concluded that that second one - the one that had made her press her phone even tighter against her ear had, to her sounded like a realisation, if she ignored the fact that Sherlock was an Oscar-worthy level kind of liar. 

So there she sat. Finally back in her apartment, if you could call it that (It was more like a bomb site now) after Mycroft's men had turfed her out for quite some hours and only allowed her to return after almost everything had been disrupted from its original position by a considerable distance. She had stood under the shower until the hot water reddened her skin and then donned her ugliest jumper and sweat pant combo and retreated to the comfort of the sofa. It was early evening now, the sunlight fell through the window in elegant strips of gold, the dust kicked up by the displaced furniture twinkled in their glow and the silence, comfortable as it were, sat heavy on her chest until the room was filled with the sound of her sobbing. She wiped her tears with her sleeves until the skin under her eyes was raw and stinging. The thought of bed seemed like a good idea. Forget about all this for a few hours, procrastinate her sadness but it was then there was a small knock at the door. 

"Molly?" 

She tried to ignore it. She really did.

"Molly- Molly _please_ " 

That pathetic tone in his voice clawed at her insides, she shuffled towards the door standing on the other side trying to sound defiant but looking broken.

"I can't do this now Sherlock." 

"Please open the door, I'll explain. I brought crisps." he added, light heartedly. 

_He thinks this is funny_. She gave him silence

She cracked the door just enough to see a strip of his coat as he stood there in the dim hallway. He curled his fingers around the door frame. She guessed she had no choice now.

"Thank you" he said, stepping into the room but not like he did usually. Usually he would charge into her space like he payed rent, instead he waited for her to invite him in, he stood calmly removing his coat and went to hang it on the rack behind him before adding, "though in fact, I was lying about the crisps." 

Molly thought that looking him in the eye now would definitely result in her bursting into tears. Instead she fixed her gaze on his coat and spoke with her mouth half covered by the sleeve of her jumper.

"What were they looking for in my flat Sherlock?" Direct and to the point. She was proud of herself.

"Mm. Mycroft. Always so dramatic but I suppose I cant blame him in this case. Could have tidied up afterwards though," he muttered, casting his eyes around the room before gesturing towards the couch.

She followed him there. Like an idiot. Her need for the truth overriding her rage and before he had even sat down he answered a question that she hadn't even had time to pose yet but was desparate to ask.

"It wasn't for case. Not exactly."

Molly watched him impatiently as she nestled into her place at the end of the sofa, surprised when he chose to sit unexpectedly close to her. He unfastened his jacket button elegantly like he always did noticing he looked unusually weary and unsure of himself. It wasn't often you saw Sherlock Holmes like this - unsure. Whatever this was about she knew it had to be bad.

"I have a sister, Molly. "

"...a sister?" She questioned, trying not to sound confused about why this was related to anything.

"Yes. Her name is Eurus. "

" _Eurus_?" She ran the name over her tongue."

"Run of the mill names in your family a popular choice then?" She muttered, immediately feeling bad but reassuring herself she had a right to poke a little fun at him in this instance.

... 

"Y-yes." His eyes narrowing at her. "Eurus has been locked away since I was a child. I couldn't remember her. Mycroft made sure to keep her a secret from me."

"Oh. That's awful. I'm sorry." She didn't really mean that. She didn't really care, but she was awkward and polite anyway.

"Mm."

"Where are you going with this Sherlock?" She pressed tentatively.

"Well, Molly. To cut it short my sister is the most calculus, callous and exceptionally intelligent person I have ever met. She's been manipulating me for months, infiltrating my life, the people I care abouts lives, finding my weak spots. Moriarty back from the dead? All part of her plan. She's largely been behind the last few months of chaos, in a sense anyway." He took a deep breath. 

"And she's been watching. Me, you, John."

"Right... so-" she spoke softly trying not to offend with her sceptical tone, "sort of an evil sister?"

  
....

"Mm."

"Remarkably cliché when you put it like that Molly." He smiled a little. "Not evil no. Unwell yes. And she makes Mycroft and I look like- "

"She's very clever."

_Not being condescending tonight I see. Nice._

"So the phone call, that was her?" Molly asked, although she wasn't really asking , she was telling. Her tone was emotionless, clinical, like Sherlock's had always been when he was deducing a problem. She kept her hands still, resisting the urge to pick at her fingernails.

"Right. Yes. Sort of." His eyebrows creased as he rooted around for the words and as he twisted his body towards her she felt like he was trying to brace her for something bad, she felt unable to get up freely because his knees were only an inch away from her thighs. 

"In answer to your question from earlier- the men in your flat, they were bomb disposal."

"Bomb disposal?" She questioned. Panicked. 

"Yes."

Molly's mouth gaped.

"They found nothing. There was no bomb. Of course I didn't know that when I made that phone call to you. And I only had three minutes on the clock to make you say it before it would be detonated."

" _To make me say-?_.."- her voice broke.

"Yes." Sherlock said.

"But she's smart Molly. Far smarter than me. She wanted it to be a difficult conversation. To dredge up my- _emotions_."

He almost shuddered at the word.

"I thought it would be easy because I knew it was true. I thought you would just say it if I told you to say it. _Stupid_. I realise that now." He shook his head.

"And I wouldn't say it". Molly breathed, realising now how deciding to do that could have killed her.

"But you did say it." He locked eyes with her reassuringly and she felt herself blush for the first time since he had entered the room.

"Though there were only two seconds left on the clock."

Her eyes suddenly glazed with tears. Crying in front of him hadn't really on her to-do list today so she tried her best to blink them away. Sherlock had turned away too, probably because crying wasn't something he understood to well or maybe it was to to give her some space - she began to watch his profile, how the muscles in his jaw clenched, how when the light pouring in from the window lit up his tired eyes at just the right angle they appeared to literally glow vivid green. In fact the lighting was pretty flattering all round, casting just the right of shadow over his cheek bones and curly hair. She was probably staring now, like he wasn't used to that, and she thought about how pissed off and angry she should be but somehow it felt different now. Like he was finally seeing her and my God if she still wasn't unbelievably in love with him. He placed a kind hand over hers.

"I'm sorry Molly. I came here because despite the necessity of what I did I feel I humiliated you and I'd think it quite right if you never wanted to speak to me again."

She was breathing hard now. Doing this with Sherlock. _This -talking_ , sharing feelings thing, it was something she'd always dreamt about, maybe there was something symbolic about discovering that there was a man under that silly hat, a man who was human like just like her, a man that could be loved.

"You know you will always have me. Always." Her voice cracked.

He smiled softly. " _I know_."

A hot thick silence fell between them then. Her hand was sweating in his, embarrassingly so, and Molly's heart was pounding in her ears.

"Molly. You're my friend" He said, in a sort of prepared way that made her think this was rehearsed, "perhaps even the most important friend I could have. You've always been there, and I've always had your loyalty and I've never been so unsure on how to approach anything in my entire life as I am this very conversation we're having right now..." He cleared his throat - 

"But Molly... When I said it.. The second time- I- "

In that instant her body was alive with heat, her brain scrambling for context. Was she hearing this? She watched his lips move but it was as if the words didn't match, as if a gun had been fired next to her and all she could hear was the rushing sound of her own blood in her ears.

"It surprised me too. " He continued, confirming her assumption, and she thought he may as well have let that bomb go off. There was no backing out of this mess now. "Interesting how saying something out loud holds so much mo-"

"What?!" Was all she could summon when she managed to finally form words. He needed to be clearer and at the same time he was talking to much.

"Sherlock?" She demanded.

"Yes?"

" _What are you saying_?"

He wore that confused, isn't it obvious expression.

"No. N-no I can't do this." She said, standing quickly but finding that Sherlock already had a firm grip on her wrist. 

_Urgh_ that grip on her wrist. She would unpack those dirty thoughts later.

"Molly listen to me. I've spent my entire life suppressing my emotions, my sister quite politely pointed that out to me and out of all the people who thought I was nothing more than a cold hearted sociopath you're certainly not one of them."

She stared down at him though her vision was blurred by tears.

He pulled her hand gently, "Sit." 

Molly was still. Holding on to something that felt like rage and relief and euphoria all at once - but she returned to her seat heavily, defeated. 

"Sherlock.." her voice quivered as she wiped away the never ending stream of tears on her cheeks, "if this is because you feel guilty- for what you said, you _don't_ _have to_ , I kn- I know I'm not anything special. I'd rather you didn't make me feel I have any sort of chance-"

Sherlock interrupted her. "No" - putting a comforting hand on her thigh that lit up her nerves with electricity. "Look, l'm not good at this but one might argue that I'm just a junkie detective - when I can't comprehend what I don't know, I get high. When I'm on a case it's the second best thing, but _you_ \- you always believed in the part of me I've tried my entire life to convince myself doesn't even exist." 

"You're an arsehole" she whimpered.

"Quite right. Anyway when it comes down to it it's just chemistry,".

"... What is? Love?" 

"Of course" he almost quipped. "And maybe I'm just human. Although let's not go around telling people I said that." He raised a brow at her.

She wanted to punch him in the face. Kissing him would be an acceptable second choice but she didn't have the confidence for that. To be a little closer to him would be nice but their knees were keeping their bodies apart and she was to dizzy and overwhelmed to move. It was in that moment he seemed to shift his weight over her, a hand on her thigh and another on the pillow beside her. He was so close now she could feel his breath on her lips, smell his scent and-

_And he kissed her._

A moan escaped her lips without her permission. He pushed with a little more pressure - Okay Sherlock was good at this - 

_Hold on_. 

Research maybe? 

No. Don't think. 

Her small hands landed on his face and neck, faltering at his hairline before finally running through thick curls. She could hear his breathing now, more laboured, the heat from his body through his thin shirt, his hands still, being careful not to indulge too much in her, still waiting for her permission. Well, he had it. The hand behind her on the pillow was supporting his weight so she encouraged the other hand to slip up under her jumper, his cool finger tips on her red hot flesh.

_Fuck_ \- she mouthed against him.

Sherlock felt her body react to his touch like tinder to a lit match, her skin lighting up under his fingers, he broke the kiss then, not because he didn't want more but because he hadn't intended for it to go any further than this, it wasn't in the plan. 

"Molly I think- "

" _Please don't_ " Molly panted.

"What?"

"Don't _think_."

"Oh. Well It is sort of my thin-"

_Funny_.

Her lips were on his again, hungrier this time. His tongue slipping over her bottom lip, her head angled to allow him to deepen the kiss, and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the desparate ache between her thighs, she wanted more. She wanted him. More than anything else in that moment. It was a primal, pulsing desire and she didn't care how he did it or how good he was at it, all she wanted was for him to fuck her. But this was Sherlock Holmes, he didn't just have causal sex with people.. did he? How much did he know? When he kissed her where did he intend for this to lead? Her questioning thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of the weight of his hips on her and more evidently the feel of his cock pressed into her thigh. 

Time for a little reality check Molly. 

Okay brain, are we sure this is actually happening? She peeled her eyes open and checked her surroundings. 

Embarrassingly messy apartment. _Check_.

Nearly dark out. Time is functioning normally. Check.

She pulled at the fabric of the couch. Yep definitely not floating on a cloud or something equal to the effects of a drug over dose, not that she had any drugs to over dose on.. Oh and sure enough there's Sherlock, more or less between her legs now, disheveled but still fully clothed with an unmistakable bulge at the front of his pants and of course he's looking at her now, probably wondering _why is she looking at me like that,_ isn't this what you wanted? Fantasies have a bit of habit of ruining a moment for you don't they Molly?

"Are you alright?" His deep voice pulled her out of her daze.

"Y- yes sorry I was just.. actually I'm not sure what I was doing" she laughed. "Do- do you want me to do something about that?" She flicked her eyes down to where the fabric of his trousers was straining.

  
"Oh. " He looked surprised to see it there, "but what about you?" He said it so sweetly she thought she might die. The sociopath wanted her to get hers first and she couldn't help but laugh.

"That won't take much effort." She teased and it was clearly a little lost on him judging by his confused expression, she fiddled with the button of his trousers as he kissed her again, she eventually untucked his shirt, his jacket fell off his shoulders, she helped by pushing the sleeves down his arms. Molly removed her jumper revealing her small frame and surprisingly toned upper body - Sherlock knew exactly where to look, he scanned her with his eyes, she had no idea what he was looking for but it was _hot._ She felt herself blush at the vulnerability of it.

" _No underwear_." he cocked an eyebrow knowingly.

She breathed a guilty little sound knowing full well that observation meant there was no barrier between his fingers and that one place she wanted so desperately for him to touch her- they danced over the soft skin of her stomach, she kept her eyes on them as he slid down under the waist band of her sweat pants until his hand lay exactly where it was meant to be. He'd done this before, he had to have done. Everything about his movement screamed confidence, it was the same cockiness he expressed time and time again in every other aspect of his being but for some reason she'd always imagined it would be different with sex and even given her very fortunate current position she felt a pang of jealousy towards whichever lucky woman had had this privilege before her.

He felt her grasping a fistful of his shirt at his shoulders as he found that just right spot. He had to admit any man would struggle not to be flattered by how aroused she clearly was under his hand. He supposed she had fantasied about moments similar to this many times, and actually if he allowed himself to indulge in the thought, many women had probably done the same. His research into such subjects could only get him so far of course, some practical experience was needed, Janine had been one of his test subjects, no sex of course but almost everything else and sure enough observational skills had turned out to be just as much an asset in that area as with any other. It was really quite simple to tell when a woman is enjoying something once you were properly tuned in - what he hadn't anticipated was how much he would enjoy it too. Now with Molly it was different again, he had come to the conclusion that he did in fact love her, there was no doubt about that, but did he love her romantically? He wasn't sure. Right now he was holding his new found emotions somewhat reluctantly at arms length hoping Molly would catch them and tell him what the hell he was supposed to do.

Molly revealed in the presence of his body hovering over hers, his sleeve rolled up, forearm flush against her stomach, his face was close enough that he should have been kissing her but even with her eyes closed she could feel him observing her gently, noting every tiny twitch of her expression, every hitched breath and every change of angle in her hips until she was writhing underneath him to the soft command of -

" _Tell me if it feels good_."

And that was enough to send her over the edge, chanting something sweet and needy until white hot bliss enveloped her.

He landed a kiss on her lips and it seem to solidify her surroundings again. The blood in her ears subsiding and the encroaching stillness of the almost pitch dark room around them becoming part of her vision where before it had only been him. 

"Do you want to have dinner with me?" His hand was barely out of her underwear (if she'd had any on) her vision was still hazey - still floating on that cloud of chemical bliss and all she could do was laugh breathlessly at his absurd timing but, that was Sherlock to a T after all. 

" _Yes_." 

"Tomorrow night then." He kissed her again slow and soft - a goodbye kiss, for now anyway. He flattened out his shirt, fluffed his hair up and before she had barely dressed herself again he had donned his jacket and coat from the hanger across the room. 

"See you tomorrow Molly Hooper." He smiled.

He disappeared through the door like a shadow and she wondered for a moment if she had dreamt the entire thing.

He really was her type.


End file.
